


sunkissed

by abeebumbling



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:48:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23300416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abeebumbling/pseuds/abeebumbling
Summary: Argo firmly believed there was no such thing as 'sunkissed'.Until he took Fitzroy to the beach.
Relationships: Argo Keene/Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Maplekeene
Comments: 4
Kudos: 96





	sunkissed

Sunkissed.

The word doesn’t make sense to Argo. There’s simply no such thing. The sun doesn’t kiss you. The sun is unforgiving and it beats down on your back as you work on the deck. It makes you squint as it reflects all too brightly on the sea.

He _loves_ the sun, don’t get him wrong. It was a huge part of his everyday life as a sailor and he missed it at night when you needed spells or candles to see anywhere further than a foot from your face on moonless nights. He missed its warmth when he was trapped in endless accounting classes. 

But _still_ , the word didn’t make sense.

There was dawn and there was dusk ,that’s true, but those were ideal times for work: light without harrowing heat and they lasted half an instant so no one had the time to languish in the rays. By the time you sat down it was either too dark or too warm.

The sun was beautiful and it was ruthless, maybe beautiful _in_ its ruthlessness. There was no such thing as sunkissed.

Fitzroy doesn’t like the sun.

Argo sees it in the way he screws his eyes when he steps out of a long class, in the way he fans himself excessively during hot days, refusing to remove his cloak. 

_Sensitive eyes_ , Fizroy says, _Elvin heritage_ , he repeats. It’s true enough. He’s seen (well, heard more like) Fitzroy bumble about in the dark without a second thought, going about his everyday life as Argo feels the walls for a torch or a lantern. He has ornate curtains in his room and they’re drawn more often than not. He’s seen him at least twice by himself on the then dark training field, quietly monologuing as he swishes a sword around while Argo slinks back to his room after another exhausting conversation with Jackle. 

Anyways, Argo firmly believed there was no such thing as sunkissed.

Until he took Fitzroy to the beach.

At first he whines. Of course he does, this is Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Knight (in absentia) of Goodcastle. He whines about the sand in his shoes, the wind messing up his hair and the, in his words, “motherfucking sun”. The swear still sounded crooked in his mouth, although he was getting slowly better. Argo still laughed at him though. They had fun, despite all of Fitzroy’s complaining and screaming (that may have been Argo’s fault, but he hadn’t known the water was _that_ cold). 

As Fitzroy calls it quits on the water fight after being thoroughly drenched and lies down on his towel, spreading out to try and dry in the sunlight, Argo notices the smallest splash of freckles across his smiling face. They’re small and faint and he sees that Fitzroy’s shoulder just darkened the tiniest bit. As though the sun had given him the lightest touch, grazing him with its fingertips. As though it had kissed him gently, carefully.

Argo smiles, all fondness and warmth. He gets it now.

**Author's Note:**

> whoop! well something a lil different this time! a lil shorter, a lil softer but still good I hope


End file.
